


Swept away

by Sleepless_Malice



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, M/M, Mairon is drunk af, because Gothmog makes the best whiskey, mentioning of Gothmog, mentioning of past violence, warning for: bad humor & taste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tumblr prompt: 5 = “Are you drunk?”</p>
<p>After enjoying Gothmog's company, Mairon finds himself completely drunk in Angband's halls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swept away

The gloomy hallways appeared to be twisted, spiraling downwards endlessly where hours ago they had been straight and even as they had been for so many years.

Or haven’t they? Has he discovered a secret place, some cavernous maze, he had never been before? It was impossibly hard to focus his mind on such easy tasks when even swallowing seemed to be complicated. Uneasiness began to spread through his innards, and Mairon just hoped to find himself in the comfort of his bed rather sooner than later. Golden sheets adorned with black furs at their ends, louche chandeliers, – Mairon’s musings ended abruptly when he stumbled over something that wasn’t even there.

“Gothmog,” he mumbled to himself, cursing his beloved friend when once more he heavily leant against the polished rocks, arm stretched out with his head hanging downwards.

Since when he had four feet, Mairon didn’t know, nor did he know why drool ran down his chin. Swiftly, he wiped it away with the back of his hand, and even this tiny motion made him sway.

“Gothmog!” All the more the Maia swore upon the realization just how immensely drunk he was. Centuries ago he should have learned not to drink with Gothmog, at best not to drink any alcohol at all. In contrast to his best friend – or his master – it didn’t become him well. But then, the taste of it was exquisite, with saying no generally not being his biggest strength.

Who else serves whiskey with the flavor of their roasted enemies?

And more: who else was such good company when drunk?

Certainly not his master whose temper flared uncontrolled.

Certainly not him, who felt miserably, contemplating his life and the world itself aloud.

Briefly, Mairon was even tempted to gather his robes about him and lie down on the floor until some orcish creatures would hurdle down the corridor and wake him as a matter of fact before his absence was noted. But then, no; after all he was second-in-command, his master’s right hand, his lieutenant – and something else he didn’t wish to think about right now. Sleeping on the floor did not befit his status – nor his delicacy, no matter how drunk he was.

At last, the small remain of dignity won over his foolishness and he decided to continue his journey through Melkor’s palace, if his feet just would not feel so heavy, his legs so limp. 

So lost he was in his drunken haze that the world around him had easily become a spinning blur with all oh so familiar sounds drowned out; naturally, he had not heard somebody approaching, his usual caution thrown into the icy winds howling about Angamando’s towers.

“Are you drunk?” a voice asked languidly, breath so close to his skin that the tiny hair on his neck stood on edge and made Mairon shiver in its wake.  

Despite his master’s cunning ability to see right through falsehood, Mairon tried to deny the obvious, something he would have never dared if sober. Well, he wasn’t.

“No. No no no,” he lied hastily, turning around to face his master – at least that was what he had originally in mind; his legs, however, forsook him. Wouldn’t it have been for his master’s strong arms his bones would have scattered on the cold stone.

“No?” Melkor asked, eyebrows delicately raised. Apart from that, his expression was fairly neutral – or Mairon simply couldn’t read the fine nuances in his drowsy state.

All too easily, Mairon fell into and endless mantra of apologies. “I am sorry, master.”

“Sorry for what?” laughed Melkor, scooping his lieutenant into his arms. “For getting wasted on Gothmog’s sanguine whiskey? I cannot blame you for that.”

A sigh of relief tumbled from Mairon’s lips, as exactly that he had feared. Only once he had been drunk in his master’s company, actually both had been in a state well beyond sanity that night.

Mairon inclined his head. “No?” 

“Hush,” whispered Melkor, brushing a strand of golden hair out of Mairon’s face with such divine gentleness that he felt as if he would faint in his master’s arm. “There even might be benefits to it; you know it is said that muscles tend to greatly relax upon intoxication.”

With wide eyes and open mouth Mairon stared at his master, whose eyes gleamed golden in the torch light like beacons of hope.

_‘You fool,’_ scolded a voice in the back of his mind, one Mairon deliberately ignored. ‘ _You helpless fool.’_

Once, after the night when first he had been drunk in Angamando, he had sworn to never drink in his master’s company again as on bad days he could still feel the bruises though long healed.

But how should he deny him when so wonderfully, so safe he felt in the arms wrapped around his form?

When so intimately his master’s burned fingers lingered exactly where he liked it best?

When a gentleness so scarcely witnessed spread across his face, subtly like the first rays of the sun caressing the drops of dew?

Oh so easily he was swayed, though in regret he would bath once dawn came.

Before he knew he was speaking, despite his better knowledge, despite the knowledge he’d regret his choices, the words – “lead on, then,” – bubbled out of his mouth on their own accord with something all too treacherous twitching against his robes.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on tumblr, feel free to say hello over there: [feanope](http://www.feanope.tumblr.com)


End file.
